What the Rain Conceals
by Lady-Prince Pyro
Summary: Karkat enters the local coffee shop during a rain storm, feeling lost and out of place. Perhaps he's not the only one.
1. Chapter 1 - Downpour

"I am mostly scared by passing time,

The world it seems, is more unkind."

_\- It's Okay I Wouldn't Remember Me Either by Crywank_

The air-conditioning was damp and just a bit too cold as Karkat plopped wetly down into the booth at the back. He ran a hand through his matted wild hair, shaking off the drops of water as he grimaced down at the soggy lump his backpack had become. His notebooks inside were probably ruined, just like everything else in his life these days. Karkat glowered at the rain that continued falling silently on the other side of the glass, biting down on his lip in an effort not to curse aloud. It was quiet here, and the other patrons didn't even glance his way as he arranged his things to dry on the back of the seat, no need to make a scene. This coffee shop was open at odd hours, making it the perfect stomping grounds for local artists, drifters, and haggard college students. It was a lair for the city's eccentrics and weirdos, and Karkat himself was no exception. Though where he fit into the culture...he wasn't entirely sure. Karkat frowned bitterly again, feeling his ire rise. Stupid, he could be so _stupid_ sometimes. And right now he'd rather be anywhere than back at his apartment.

Forcing himself to briefly leaving his damp nest, he made his way up to the counter to order a black cup of coffee. The girl at the register smiled back at him blandly, her blue beanie bobbing briefly as she rang him up. When asked if he wanted anything to go with it, Karkat waved her away let his gaze drift as Beanie moved on to fill his boring request. As his eyes slid over the tops of the other patrons, they caught briefly on one in particular in the corner. Or more accurately, on the bright red hoodie they wore. Karkat hadn't seen them at first when he'd come in, but the color was a muted crimson that seemed to stand out from the worn down suits bohemian clientele around him.

"Sir? Your coffee".

Karkat jumped like he'd been burned, unaware he'd been caught staring and feeling like a creep. He mumbled his thanks and awkwardly grabbed fistfuls of napkins from the dispenser near the drink stirrers. Then he returned to his booth on squeaking sneakers, wishing he could just melt through the floor and be done with it already. He now sat in the rear-facing booth now drying himself off as best he could as he fought to relax, socially drained and wondering why the hell he thought it had been a good idea to come here. He felt on edge from the fight earlier with his roommate, and completely out of sorts in general. But he viciously forced it all from his thoughts once more as his fingernail picked restlessly at the cracked plastic lining of the table. Maybe he'd try to get some writing done and clear his thoughts. Feeling about in the sodden bag next to him, Karkat pulled out one of his spiral notebooks and a laptop. Thankfully both were in far better condition than he feared, and while both _did_ look a bit battered, that was his fault. Mostly.

Ten minutes later and he started to sink in degrees into the booth he'd claimed. His laptop glowed faintly in the dim lighting of the coffee shop, reflecting some of the hazy glow of the sky beyond the adjacent window. The sky outside was marbled with a deep grey and black as the rain showed no signs of slowing. Trails continued to run down the glass next to his shoulder, like beads of glass. His coffee cooled in its cheap styrofoam container, only half-drunk as Karkat paid it little mind. He put in his earbuds, and let his fingers begin clacking quietly on the familiar keys.

_"You just don't get it, do you. I'm sorry but I don't think I can help you anymore, maybe you better go."_

Karkat flinched at the unbidden memory, taken completely out of the zone he was trying to enter. He frowned, brows furrowing. "Damn it…" He felt about on the laptop, and the music cranked up a little louder. Desperately drowning out anything but electronic rhythms. He blankly stared out in the direction of the street outside, but the bubbled surface of water on the glass obscured on the view and turned the empty shops beyond into little more than dull smears of color. It felt like being isolated inside a little box, the fogged walls noise-canceling earpieces forming a tiny world of escapism. He wouldn't think about it right now, he _wouldn't_. Fuck Terezi and her superiority complex. She didn't understand, and she never would. Blinking again he dazedly looked back down at the notebook that was open on the table. It rested right there next to his cooling coffee cup, both equally useless to him. The bitter flavor wasn't improving his mood, and his trash journaling wasn't getting any better. This was all so pointless, who was he kidding…

The music oozing out of his headphones perfectly drowned out any atmospheric sounds he might've had to brace against, turning the other coffee shop patrons into mute marionettes as they occasionally lined up to order or milled about to other tables near him. Karkat sighed, picking up his pen again in a feeble attempt to pull himself out of the slump he was in. The lofi beats in his ears were hypnotic and kept him disconnected, free falling in his own body as he silently stared at the blur of words on the white screen before him. He was feeling more melancholy than usual, a trick of the weather probably. It had been raining for damn near two straight days already, with no clear end in sight. Karkat glanced down at a crumbled admissions form soaked and stuffed at the very bottom of his bag. Yeah. Just the weather, that was all.

Movement from his peripheral caught his eye. A man talking into a cell phone got up and cradled the square brick against his ear as he gathered his things to leave. As he scooted around the table and shoved his chair in with his hip, Karkat's eyes fell on the booth behind him that was now visible. The red hoodie from before was now in view, sidelong to his gaze on the other side of the shop. Karkat immediately flicked his gaze back down to his screen. He hated accidentally making eye contact with other people, it always made him tense. Looking at the few empty paragraphs he'd managed to type, Karkat changed a few words, and added another line. A girl came into the shop and shook her umbrella out by the door before stuffing it into a waiting receptacle by the trash cans. Karkat ignored everything else and continued typing without incident, watching the lines of text grow on the page, before sighing and deleting several of them again. Eventually however, his curiosity got the better of him and before he could really help himself Karkat cautiously peeked upward again.

That red hoodie caught his eye like a magnet, impossible to ignore. With a closer look he saw that the figure inside it seemed impossibly androgynous. The dyed fabric seemed baggie, and their posture was stooped and hunched inwardly. The actual hood of the jacket was pulled all the way up over the person's head and the cord was cinched tight around their face, hiding their hair effectively and looking completely ridiculous. Karkat found himself sneering slightly in baffled confusion. It wasn't_ that_ cold in here after all. A pair of black sunglasses obscured their eyes, and completed the portrait for what Karkat now privately titled _Unabomber-in-Training_. They sat in the booth facing straight ahead of them, giving Karkat a perfectly concealed profile. No coffee or pastry sat on their table, and the other booth seemed to sit in a deeper shadow than the rest of the coffee shop. It was...it was _weird_. They just sat and stared straight ahead, their glasses and expression blank. Were they some kind of freak? Some nut job that wandered in? Karkat forced himself to look back down at his laptop before he was caught staring again, and pretend to flip through his notebook. Was anyone else getting an uncomfortable vibe?

Karkat glanced about himself, scoping out the other patrons and checking the mood of barista behind the counter. No one seemed to have really noticed, and if they did they were paying it any mind. They all went on about their business, completely absorbed in their own worlds, and leaving Karkat himself feeling the odd man out. Maybe he was getting worked up again over nothing...surely Unabomber over there wasn't just loitering around or someone would have said something. And really was it any of his business any way? Better not to get involved either way, in case he was a serial killer or something. Karkat rigidly forced himself to shut the world back out and picked up his pen to add a few notes to his journal. But as the ball point scratched uselessly over the surface of the paper, he saw the ink had run out. Shifting to dig out a new pen from his bag, Karkat misjudged the clutter about his elbows and sent his coffee careening over the side of his table to burst on impact on the ground and splash the remains of it contents all across the linoleum. Swearing a bit louder than he meant to, he rushed to use some of his napkins from earlier to mop up the mess before anyone came over to help. What the fuck was wrong with him today, nothing was going right. But as he gathered the black drenched mess in his calloused hands, Karkat looked up from his kneeling position and froze.

The figure in the hoodie was staring back at him, unflinchingly. From the front Karkat could make out a rigid nose and pale skin. The squared jaw seemed masculine, but the face was younger. Probably somewhere around his age. Karkat swallowed as the stare kept him pinned, needlelike in its intensity as goosebumps rose on his skin. Forcing himself to stand, Karkat robotically moved to toss his coffee mess into the trash, and ignoring the couple of curious looks he drew gathered his things agitatedly into his still-drying backpack. Using his natural anger and self-loathing as a shield, Karkat drew himself up to his full height and marched towards the door with a glare. He shot Creepo Hoodie Guy the bird with a sneer, and passed out the doors of the shop. Karkat kept his eyes glued to his sneakers as they splashed through sidewalk puddles, a cloud of anger following him.

He didn't need to look back to know that those sunglasses watched him all the way until he rounded the corner.


	2. Chapter 2 - Deluge

"It's not that I don't have words to say

I just don't want to be the one that speaks them"

_\- Don't Call Me At All by Flatsound_

It had been two uncomfortable days since he had fled the coffee shop in anger, feeling like a fugitive. The evening hours afterward had been spent sleeping on the couch of person he barely talked to, leaving by morning light to wander the streets of the shit hole of a city he called home. The next two days passed by much the same, wandering and lost among the concrete buildings and public parks but stubbornly refusing to return to his apartment and the person waiting there. Karkat ate garbage fast food with the little bit of cash left in his wallet from his final paycheck, and he wondered if maybe life had ultimately decided to just bury his loser ass under a tidal wave of bullshit. Through it all, the rain continued to fall.

That last argument sat like a rock in his stomach, he was being a massive idiot. He knew that, it was obvious, and Karkat had no idea what the hell he even thought this little temper tantrum was accomplishing. But he couldn't bring himself to go back and face that truth. Couldn't bring himself to admit outwardly he was wrong. And wasn't that always just how things went? He'd fuck up, people would get sick of it, and they'd leave. All the while whispering _I told you so under their breath_ to each other. Sometimes not even bothering to whisper. _"Honestly what did you expect? You keep making the same mistakes, you need to wake up. But you don't care even about the little things anymore…"_ That last conversation just looped in his mind like a broken cassette, warping and twisting as it became an unrecognizable mantra of _Don't care don't care don't care…_ Fucking Terezi. Ugh, fucking _Karkat_. She didn't always have to be right, and it stung to have his wounded pride ripped out and displayed like a head on the wall.

Karkat looked up, and found himself standing in front of that same coffee shop again. He grimaced, running his fingers through the hair plastered to his scalp. He was soaked through again despite the attempts to duck under the overhangs of bus stops. Honestly he probably was going to catch pneumonia being out here during this shit weather like he was, and wouldn't that just be perfect. To actually die from his stupidity. Frowning, Karkat made his way inside, wincing at the small tinkling of the bell over the door. There were even fewer people than last time, thank God. And a quick glance didn't show anyone he recognized. All of the rain lately probably had people staying in their homes or shelters, which worked to give him more of the miserable loneliness he so obviously craved. That was really it wasn't it? He was lonely, and tired. Very very tired. He strode to the counter and mumbled the same order he made last time, to a different face behind the register that couldn't care less. He took his coffee to the same booth he'd sat at before, and dropped heavily into the seat.

He pulled out a pen and his journal. The journal was a battered lump of paper these days, and it now contained a few more entries that had been penned in while on park benches. But no matter how much he actually wrote down, it still felt woefully empty of any real _content_. Rain continued to drip silently down the glass window next to him, shelling him in and tucking him away from view. The admissions form stayed crumpled and pointedly ignored at the bottom of his bag. Karkat pulled out his headphones, cranked up the volume to his music, and closed his eyes as he fought to find serenity. The singer crooned sadly in his ear, softly harmonizing with strands of guitar as Karkat clenched a hand on the seat. Opening his eyes again, he willed his hands to move, setting up his laptop and plugging the cord into the outlet near the floor. Powering it on, he pulled up the unfinished document sitting in his cloud drive, flicking a wary eye to the bottom right corner of the monitor.

His messaging service was turned to private, looking for all the world as though he was offline. Karkat wasn't in the mood to deal with any of the comments his recent bout of selfishness was bound to bring from his social circle. But he also couldn't bring himself to totally disconnect either. His fingers mechanically typed, his eyes glazed over the screen without really seeing, and the music kept on going ignored through his headphones. He was constantly feeling lost in limbo, hanging from strings here and there but not quite willing to actually hang himself. Hated people but needed them. Hated life but couldn't leave it. And all the while, he knew he was probably just letting himself drown in his self pity because he didn't have the guts or the talent to change anything… His fingers kept on typing, but Karkat remained lost in thought and ignoring the cooling coffee.

As his fingers kept quietly clacking, Karkat was startled out of his doleful thoughts by a sharp electrical sound that came out of his earbuds. Jerking upright, he hastily moved them away from his ears, worried that maybe something in them fried with all the humidity. A different set of beats came out of them, the song having changed. Cautiously Karkat put the headphones back against his ears, not recognizing the tune. Some sort of rb track apparently, but as he sifted about his person for his phone he halted unsure. The screen looked strange, with pixel artifacts obscuring the album name and song title. Confused, he tried changing the song, but the buttons weren't reacting. In fact if anything, the song sounded louder now. Annoyance screwing up his features, Karkat kept mashing buttons fruitlessly, trying to get his phone to react at all. That was when he realized how cold it had suddenly gotten.

Squinting Karkat looked up and about him, seeing no other customers in the cafe. The barista having apparently stepped to the back of the shop to do something or other, but leaving the lights on at the counter area. As he breathed, he watched his breath fog out in front of him in tiny wisps of heat that while barely visible to the eye, indicated the drop in temperature. Had they messed with the A/C? He tried powering off the phone, starting to feel a bit...uneasy. The phone stubbornly remained on, but a low static began to creep in on top of the rhythmic baseline, getting louder and louder. Karkat felt the hairs on his neck stand up as he glanced about the cafe once more. It felt like someone was...watching him. But still there was no one in sight. He was seemingly alone in the badly lit shop. He pulled the earbuds from his ears as the static started to overtake the actual music and chucked the mess of cords and phone onto the table away from him.

A blinking light caught his eye, and Karkat's eyes flicked to a small minimized window that was now blinking on his screen. Distracted, he moved to click it automatically before realizing it was a chat window. It wasn't anyone he knew however, what the hell was going on?

**\- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] -**

Scratching the back of his damp hair with a hand Karkat tried to gather his thoughts. Weird. He didn't know anyone by that name. And how had they even messaged him? It should've looked like he was offline. Was it a mistake or just some stupid shitty pornbot trying to rip into his account? Breath fogging in front of him, and feeling tense, Karkat clicked the accept button. Then he waited, mouse poised to block whoever it was if they started asking about credit cards.

**TG: hey**

Karkat waited a few moments, but nothing else appeared. Biting his lip, he slowly typed a cautious response back to the red letters glowing in the chat window. His own muted text a sharp contrast to the garish color next to it.

**CG: WHO IS THIS?**

The response was nearly instant, trailing more red letters under his own gray ones.

**TG: you saw me didn't you**

**TG: you saw me sitting there that day**

What the fuck? Who the fuck was this creep? Was some kind of internet perv now stalking him? Could he honestly just catching a break for once? Brow furrowed, Karkat fired back a threat, ready to block the freak and to be done with it.

**CG: I DON'T KNOW WHO THE FUCK YOU ARE, BUT LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE. THIS IS YOUR ONE WARNING.**

**TG: i saw you too that day**

Karkat froze, mouse over the block button as he felt a chill run through his veins. What was this...what the hell was going on. Had someone been, watching him? Feeling his palms start to sweat, Karkat tried to wrack his brain over everything he'd seen and done the last couple of days. But everything was a slowly panicking soup in his brain, as he tried to gather himself and string together the mess of disjointed images and snapshots of memories. Maybe this was a prank, Vriska or Eirdan messing with him in retaliation for the shit he'd said to Terezi. Of course it was, right? Afterall, it had been ugly and Vriska didn't take well to other people insulting her...what, friend? Enemy? Benefits buddy? So surely,it all had to-

**TG: i see you right now**

Just like that, his brain short circuited like his headphones. What _was_ this? What the actual fuck was this? Was this really _happening_ to him right now? Karkat's wide eyes were locked onto the screen, his fingers starting to shake with the full blown panic starting to set in. That feeling of being watched redoubled, and at the moment Karkat realized he was no longer alone in the room. A bead of sweat started to sting the corner of his eye as he slowly and unwilling looked up, his eyes having a mind of their own it seemed. There, in the shadowed booth on the far side of the room was a figure . Karkat flinched in fear. It sat hunched in on itself, rocking slowly back and forth, the face turned away from Karkat's own. He'd never heard them come in.

"J-Jesus, w-w-what the shit…" Surprising himself by murmuring aloud Karkat felt his breath pick up in pace as his heartbeat pounded in his ears as his eyes remained glued across the way. The figure didn't react in the slightest. But from the dim light, the color red came into view and that was what jumpstarted his brain again. It was unmistakable: The complete-and-utterly-terrifying Unabomber guy from before was sitting right there, looking for all the world like he was about to snap. But when had he come in? Was he on drugs or something? Did he have a gun? Had he been following him around this whole time? However Karkat didn't see any sort of phone or laptop in front of him, his table was completely bare except for water droplets coming off of his chin from the motion of his rocking. Nothing to indicate he had noticed him or was communicating with him online.

Karkat's eyes flicked back down, looking at the new text that awaited him. And he flinched at the words waiting for him.

**TG: i'm glad you came back it's lonely in here**

**TG: no one in here sees me**

**TG: but you did **

**TG: of all of them you're the one who saw me**

He felt himself starting to hyperventilate, eyes flicking up to the drug addict hoodie murderer. But the eerie scene hadn't changed, it still rocked back and forth in place. Karkat got to his feet, fists clenched in white-knuckled grips. He grit his teeth, feeling the sweat prickle his back and forehead but he ground down the terror rising in him with anger. Who the fuck was this weirdo, who the fuck was _that_ weirdo, and where did either of them get off on invading his damn space and privacy. Feeling wild, Karkat snarled and strode forward a couple of steps toward the booth.

"Sir?"

And immediately he jumped a foot in the air at the sudden voice. Wide-eyed, he turned toward the direction of the sound. The barista from before was standing there behind the counter again, looking confused and suspicious. He crossed his arms as he stared back at Karkat.

"Did you _need_ anything?"

The tone was firm, not really asking a question. Karkat looked back in the direction of his intended destination but the booth was totally empty. No strange weirdo in red, no creepy rocking. What the hell was happening to him? Was he going insane?

"Uh, n-no, um...I was just…" He fished about for a reason why he was standing there, breathing heavy and acting strange. "...stretching my leg. I'm good." The barista made an unconvinced sound, and went back to restocking the machines. No doubt keeping an eye on his register. Karkat mopped his face with a hand, and returned dutifully to his booth. The red words on the screen were totally gone. Baffled, Karkat checked the chat logs, but there was nothing to indicate that he'd been talking to anyone. Thoroughly mystified, and deciding the lack of sleep had to be making him unhinged, Karkat stood once more and strode to the restroom to compose himself and hopefully not get kicked out.

As the wooden door swung closed on the intimate space, he moved past the couple of urinals and stalls to the single sink to wash his face and hands. Splashing water over his fevered skin, Karkat peered at his reflection. His eyes looked too wide, his pupils dilated. His normally dark skin looked pale in the wane light. Snagging some paper towels, he mopped the mess of his face off, hoping to at least clean away most of the sweat. But as he tossed the trash away and looked back into his reflection's eyes, he saw another face peering back at him over his shoulder. Freezing like a deer in headlights, Karkat couldn't even breathe as he locked gazes with familiar dark sunglasses that rested on a far too pale face. The Hoodie Guy was standing right behind him, close enough to touch him.

The temperature of the bathroom plummeted as Karkat trembled, still rooted to the spot. The pale man in the red hoodie edged closer behind him bringing his head nearer to Karkat's own. Thin lips parted to speak, and he heard a rasping low voice come from right next to his ear.

_"...did you...like...the song?"_

Karkat whimpered, tears stinging the corners of his eyes, as he felt his knees turn to jelly. Now that he was closer, it dawned on Karkat that it wasn't just water dripping off of the man in the hoodie. The droplets that trailed their way down that angular nose and chin were as crimson as the material he wore. The other man was dripping blood.

Fuck fuck FUCK! Karkat thought his heart was going to explode out of his chest as his anxiety dialed up to eleven. Holy shit, he was going to get murdered right in this bathroom. This psychopath was going to kill him, and this is how his life is going to end. Feeling his legs give out Karkat dropped to the tile floor, bringing his arms up around his head defensively to ward of an attack. With his eyes creased shut, he waited. But nothing happened.

Cracking an eye open, he jerked in place as he realized he was alone again in the restroom. He never heard the other guy leave, the door was still shut. Scrambling to his feet, Karkat checked the stalls, but unbelievably it was true. He was alone again. It was official, he had lost his goddamn mind. Nervously he giggled, scrubbing his fingers through his hair as he reeled. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, and he swayed lightheaded on his feet. He had lost it, cracked, was certifiably dropping off the deep end mentally. It had finally happened.

Except as he was preparing to leave and gather his stuff (planning to never again come back to this damn place), something caught his eye. There was a hand print on the mirror. Positioned right where his reflection had been earlier. As he watched, the handprint slowly faded until it was gone. In effect, leaving no evidence of what he had seen.

That was the final straw. Karkat made a beeline for his booth, hurled his belongings into his bag, and fled. The back of his neck tickling the entire time.


End file.
